


like it's the first time

by kinpika



Series: McGenji Week 2016 [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, McGenji Week, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8394517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: McGenji Week 2016Day Four Prompt: ReunionGenji almost couldn’t believe that Jesse McCree was still standing, very much together, if slightly more scruffy.





	

When Genji first receives the call, he almost doesn’t believe it. An old phone, he carried around for memory’s sake mostly, that goes off after nearly ten years of being useless. Zenyatta almost managed to convince him to abandon it, but perhaps he had some lingering hope, that someone would call him. Ask him back, even after everything.

So here Genji was, what he supposed was a makeshift base in London. It was passable, at the very least. No one had seen the two of them slip in, door sliding shut so softly, it was like it never opened. Windows papered, but that was the norm these days. They had noticed it as they travelled from Japan, the way the people stopped and stared. Some pointed, and others curled their noses. Whilst the attitude did not hurt Genji like it once did, but some part of him still remained unsettled regardless.

Zenyatta sits, centre of the room. This was where they were supposed to meet an operative named ‘Tracer’ here, before moving on to the next city. Genji had wondered why they were the first to arrive, and to this city, of all places. Going directly to Gibraltar would’ve been easier, faster. Also, there was the matter of only being metres from where Mondatta had passed.

“Should I search the area?” Genji asks, shifting from his position against the window. Tracer should have been here by now. Whilst he had never met the operative, as he had somewhat kept up with what happened with Overwatch till its disbandment. The woman had been one of the most forward members with quite a quick response time. 

“It would be best if we waited. We were watched on the way in,” an offhanded comment with Zenyatta turning to face him. “Did you notice?”

“Across the street, yes. Three people. Man, woman and child. Unarmed.” Rattling off details, Genji moves to the next window. Fingers running around the edges of the paper, he’s almost tempted to pull it off to expose the street, but resists. No need to further give themselves away.

“Patience.”

“I know.”

It takes Genji a few more minutes to settle opposite Zenyatta, crossing his legs. Steadily, the orbs spin around them both, and Genji can feel the calm spread through him. Peace, even in such a horrid place. Even with bad memories only lying just outside the doorstep. So many things around them, that reminded Genji of why they set out and returned the call, and yet.

And yet

He hears the footsteps over the rain. Always raining in King’s Row, but these are footsteps that should be more hidden for the sake of secrecy. Yet his hand does not slide to his blade, and the orbs do not still around them. They were closer still, a hand at the door. Patience. Steady breaths. Waiting for the door to open.

“It is our contact,” Zenyatta finally says as the door opens, and the operative quite literally zips into the room. Finally standing, Genji watches as she steps closer, readying himself to introduce the two of them, when he hears his name.

“Genji?!”

Turning, Genji almost doesn’t believe his ears. Not that he had clung to such a voice, it had resurfaced in his memories over the years, a support and backbone, there for him from the moment he had woken up, covered in metal. There were other feelings too, Blackwatch forcing them together in unsavoury situations. Dealings with the Shimada Clan, having to watch people he once considered family fall.

Genji almost couldn’t believe that Jesse McCree was still standing, very much together, if slightly more scruffy. 

“McCree?!” he responds, equal vigour as he walks towards McCree, slowly, carefully. McCree had never been a broad man when they had first met, and even in the few years that followed, he had yet to fill out. But here he was, filled out in all the right places. Genji’s fingers twitch, as he remembers once running his hands through McCree’s hair, and he lets his eyes quickly slide to Zenyatta, if only to remind himself of present company.

However, McCree doesn’t seem as phased by having two strangers in the room. Taking those few more steps closer, before swooping his arms around Genji’s waist, lifting him up. A few short sounds leave Genji, as he was caught unaware (and he promised to deny them viciously later). After a tentative moment, he returns the hug, arms sliding around McCree’s neck, familiar and warm, even through his suit. All these years, and Genji still thought McCree gave the best damn hugs.

“I missed you,” McCree murmurs, against his ear. Through his plating, Genji can feel McCree pull him closer and notices something _different_. 

Pushing back, Genji follows from McCree’s left shoulder to his arm, until he’s settled back on the floor. Despite the heavy jacket for the weather, Genji can still see the telltale signs of robotics extending from the sleeve, and hoists the material up further.

“What did you do?!” he exclaims, dragging the hand into better lighting. Whilst not as heavily plated as Genji’s own, the cybernetics were unmistakable. Crude in design, and there was a distinct whirring noise, but it extended to at least his elbow. 

At the stunned silence, Genji realises he was not speaking English, and repeats himself, just not as insistent. McCree simply rubs the back of his head as he laughs, about this and that, a habit he clearly had not grown out of, and slowly Genji releases his hand. So many questions on the tip of his tongue, all why and hows, but Genji knew he shouldn’t press. When people asked, even now, there was still that deep thrum in him, of not wanting to answer how he ended up the way he did. But he couldn’t be sure if that would be the same for McCree.

“I missed you.” He doesn’t know who said it first, but their words ring true, at the exact same time, and it’s like everything falls into place. 

Behind them, Genji can hear Zenyatta talking with Tracer. They needed to move on soon. Were they picking up more agents along the way? Why was McCree here, in London. At this particular point in time, his touch still lingering. But Genji knows it was not the time or place, nowhere near, it, and he turns from McCree. If he stood, staring at McCree any longer, he would not be held accountable for his actions.

“This is Zenyatta, my teacher.”

Genji smiles, as McCree holds out an unsteady hand. Uncertainty on his face, as if he’s not sure if it’s the right course of action, but Zenyatta simply returns the handshake, greeting in the way he always did. McCree laughs, embarrassed and amused, left hand rubbing the back of his neck again. And it does something that makes Genji all weak in the knees, not unlike the first time he had first seen McCree.

Years ago, before he got mixed up in Blackwatch. Before Angela saved him. When Overwatch first caught wind of the going-ons of the Shimada Clan, arriving in Hanamura. Genji was young, stupid, and pushed away their help. But McCree persisted, with that awfully loud laugh and looking like something out of the movies. His stomach still flip flopped, remembering how McCree stood on the hill, windswept and beautiful, pressing his hat against his chest.

“We should move.”

Nodding, Genji rights himself, talking steadily with Tracer about the next plan. On to the next city. His steps were lighter, and Genji could see Zenyatta’s attention directed to him, just barely. He knew. How could his teacher not? Smiling behind his visor, Genji rolled his shoulder, and brushed his fingers against McCree’s briefly, in passing. 

McCree smiles as he lights a cigarillo, hands not able to cover how his cheeks rise, blush high on the skin. And that set Genji off again, a floaty sort of feeling, not at all tampered by the weather, the location, the time. Just him and McCree, brought together again as if by fate. 

**Author's Note:**

> HEH


End file.
